tw.
(
Silence)
Therapist: Veronica?
Veronica: (stares into space; blinks)
Therapist: Veronica!? (says louder)
Veronica: Yeah? (turns her head, looks)
Therapist: Did you hear what I just said? You haven't said anything in a while. (worrisome tone)
Veronica: Yeah... (no facial expression)
Therapist: Well, did you do what I asked you to do from the last session? (frustrating tone)
Veronica: Yeah... (sighs)
Therapist: So, you wrote a letter to your father? Do you have it with you? (surprised expression)
Veronica: Yeah... (pulls a letter from her jeans pocket and opens the crinkled paper)
Therapist: Wonderful, I am so happy you decided to do what I recommended, finally. Please, read it aloud? (smiling expression)
Veronica: (reads aloud)
Dear Dad,
Dear A'sshole,
Dear,
To whom it may concern,
I can't believe I am doing this. Why am I doing this?
To get this chic off of my back about you I guess. I don't give a s h i t about you. Never have, and never will. Why would I? How could I? How could anyone? I really wish I was never born sometimes. I can't stand the fact that I even have any traces of your genes inside of me. Mom was so stupid to marry you, look at what she did to us, not to you of course, but to us kids. Look what she f u c k i n g did to herself for you. You didn't deserve her, or any of us. Grandma should have just swallowed you instead of cursing the world with your ugly existence.
This therapist thinks it would be good for me to write out my feelings about you, to you, for some reason. I could go on for the rest of my life happily, never uttering your miserable name, or even a single glimpse of you in my mind. I wish all those times my brain was electrified, that you were wiped away, but no, they left you behind.
The jokes on you though, ya know. Mom is alive and doing well, and getting the best d i c k of her life. I bet you wish you could have a go at me for what I did to you. Oh, I bet you do. Sure you can't stand that I got the last laugh, huh, you piece of s h i t. Bet you want my head in a box so damn bad it is eating at your pathetic rotting corpse. I hope you are suffering endlessly with a yearning that claws at your insides to kill me, and it hurts, so much pain, it hurts so damn bad and there isn't anything you can do about it.
I hope your a s s h o l e is being destroyed in your afterlife, I want to torture you myself, I wish these things for you, I wish I could kill you again. I want to dig your eyes out with my thumbs and shove them up your ass so you can see my foot incoming to kick it. I hate you with a passion, and I am so d a m n happy that you are mad. I know you are, you can't stand the fact that I stopped your abusive hand. It's so bittersweet.
Therapist: Um, Veronica you can stop now. Uh.
Veronica: (reads extremely loud; red-faced)
A'sshole, you piece of s h i t,
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.Veronica: (stands, dropping the letter to the floor; tears in her eyes)
Therapist: (pause; silence) Time is up now Veronica, how about next Thursday for the next session? (careless tone)
Veronica: Yeah... (no facial expression)
